


Hetalia Parodies

by writingandchocolatemilk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, I'm Sorry, M/M, Parody, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Welcome to crack land.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Our attractions include: a reader insert, a Mary Sue, and a smut scene. I hope you enjoy the stay. </b></p>
<p>  <b>This is satire. A parody. </b></p>
<p>You brush your hair out of your eyes, letting your eyes wander across the room. You knew most of the stuff your teacher was talking about, anyways. Surprisingly, your eyes meet with Natalia. She gives you a glare, playing with a knife. She was upset that her brother, Ivan, had asked you out last week. </p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Now that Sampaguita was all dressed, she went to the World Meeting.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>Whips, chains, and various other instruments adorned the walls. In the corner, there was a small bed. In the other corner, there was a stockade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ReaderxEngland

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy the stay.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: sorry didn’t have time to edit this!!! sorry for any mistakes! <33

HETALIA DOES NOT BELONG TO ME! ONLY THE IDEAS DO

You sigh, watching the teacher lecture on about world history. Of course, being an avid fan of Hetalia, you know _all_ of this. You lazily raise your hand, smirking.

“Actually, China was on the _Allied_ side during the war,” you correct the teacher. Honestly, it was like no one else knew anything about World War Two.

You brush your hair out of your eyes, letting your eyes wander across the room. You knew most of the stuff your teacher was talking about, anyways. Surprisingly, your eyes meet with Natalia. She gives you a glare, playing with a knife. She was upset that her brother, Ivan, had asked you out last week. You sigh, turning away.

You feel a hand slide up your thigh, and you give a wicked glare. Francis has army crawled across the classroom floor, and he is now at your feet, giving you this wicked pervey grin. You place your foot against his face and give him a shove with your foot. He steals your shoe and sniffs it as he rolls away.

           

~~~TIME SKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE FLYING MINT FUNNY LOLOL XD ~~~

 

You sit outside the school, listening to your music. The song is “Thanks For The Memories,” by Coldplay. Your mother is late for picking you up. You worry that you’re going to miss your ballet lessons—your instructor has called you a prodigy. But, of course, your mother is going to ruin this for you.

Suddenly, your lost shoe is presented to you. You turn, gasping when you see the hottest boy in the whole school offering the stolen light-blue Converse sneaker. It’s Arthur Kirkland, whose father owns the largest Converse-Sneaker Factory in the whole city.

“O-oh!” You stutter, taking back your shoe.

Arthur smiles, taking a seat next to you. You can practically feel the electricity crackling between you. Your heart skips a beat, and you give a slight cough. That isn’t normal, you should probably get that—

“I beat up Francis to get that back for you, love,” Arthur says, his voice rich like a mahogany table. “You should be more careful wit’ your footwear, poppet.”

Your cheeks warm up, and your feet your heart gave another sickening shudder. “I, well, you know Francis! Always trying to steal underwear and shoes. To sniff.”

Arthur smiles. “I’m not surprised. You’re one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I-I… Th-thank you,” you mumble, avoiding Arthur’s gaze.

“Actually,” Arthur says, his own face lighting up like a fire truck, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.”

You turn to face him. He rests his hand against your cheek, eyes like two pools of swamp water, green, deep, probably with something nasty underneath the surface. His eyebrows come together, concerned.

“I… I…” He tries, and you bite your lip. “I-I—” He punches you in the face. He stands up, quickly. “No, I don’t! You’re a wanker!” He yells, cheeks red like the sun at sunset.

You hold your cheek, tears springing to your [e/c] eyes. Your begin to cry, and Arthur stands there. He still is the hottest boy in school, but he’s a douche. You stand, turning, and your hair whips like a… A whip. (sorry guise! metaphors aren’t my thing! x-x)

You run back toward the school, sobbing. As you run, England calls out behind you, hand reaching out.

“No, [y/n], I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, I just—“ He takes off after you.

You run through the school grounds. You want to turn and run into Arthur’s arms, but you don’t want to be hurt _again_. Not after your last boyfriend, not after Ivan! Arthur continues to chase you, and eventually your legs give out from under you. You fall, but Arthur is there, catching you and pulling you to his chest.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says, kissing the top of your head, “I didn’t mean to, poppet. It’s just th-that…” You pull away. He cups the cheek he had punched, “I-I… I love y-you so much.”

You gasp, hand flying up to cover your beautiful lips. “Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-you l-l-l-love me?”

Arthur pulls back a fist, but, ever so slowly, he nods. “I… Yes.”

Your heart feels like there is a stampede going on inside, and the animals are attacking your various chambers of the heart. You suck in a breath, and your tears dry instantly.

“Oh, Arthur!” You scream, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you, too!"    

~~~ TIME SKIP BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE PIRATE IN THAT ONE EPISODE OF THE ANIME THAT AMERICA SEES ENGLAND TALKING TO XDD ~~~

You and Arthur had made your way to the school’s bathroom. You were kissing furiously, your tongues battling for dominance as he drags you through the abandoned hallways of the school. Eventually, England drags you into one of the abanonded chemistry rooms.

He rips open your blouse, kissing down your neck. He finds the perfect spot, and you feel like you could melt into a puddle. Your knees tremble, and you moan again.

As Arthur sets to work unbuttoning his own shirt, you feel like you hear something. You turn your head slightly, trying to find the source of the noise. Arthur lets out an offended noise, and you return your attention to him. He has tears in his eyes. He is crying.

“Do you not think I’m handsome?” He asks, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence. “I-I’m not as _sexeh_ as Al-Alfred o-or Ivan but…” He rubs his bare chest, looking at you with desperate, tear-filled eyes. “I want to _have_ you, ducky.”

Your own lip trembles. “Of course I think you’re _sexeh_ , Artie! You’re one of the most handsome boys I know! I… But… Well…” Your cheeks flush, and you look away from Arthur’s glorious, pale body. “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m a v-v-v-v-virgin.”

There’s that noise again. You don’t want to upset Arthur again, but what—

It almost sounds like…

“That’s not a problem, poppet,” Arthur says, moving toward you once again. His fist is clenched, but his deep, velvety, forest-swamp green eyes are soft. “I’ll go—“ He frowns. “Do you hear a camera?”

The supplies closet nearby breaks open. Francis tumbles out, camera at hand, naked except for a rose. Arthur and you stare. Francis stands up, fabulous as always.

“Honhonhohnhonhonh,” he hons. “I wanted to see _l’amore_ in action, _non_?” He hons once again. “I ‘ave wanted to ‘ee zis beautiful _zebrahz_ naked for ze longest time!”

Arthur howls like a cat in heat, and launches himself at Francis.

 

AUTRHORS NOTE: i hope you guise liked it! :D im new to this whole fanfic thingy! PLEASE REVIEW THANK YOU <333


	2. Sampaguita: Home of the Beautiful

Sampaguita was dressing for the World Meeting. She put on her military uniform: a black corset with blue ribbons at the top and lacing it up, knee-high boots with leggings with blue flowers on them underneath, gloves that went halfway up her arms, a hat with a stylish bow that Sampaguita’s country had designed itself, a necklace in a shape of a heart. She had long, black hair with blue streaks in it, with a single, small braid on the right side. Only preppy nations—like Liechtenstein and Belarus and Seychelles—wore makeup.

Now that Sampaguita was all dressed, she went to the World Meeting.

At the World Meeting, Sampaguita had to steal one of the other nation’s chairs. Preppy bitches like Ukraine usually stole her chair, so Sampaguita had to steal her chair usually. She sat down, legs resting on the table, watching as the other nations trickled in to the meeting.

There was a strange tense air throughout the room. Sampaguita guessed it was because all of the boy nations had recently declared their love for her. However, Sampaguita only cared for one man/nation/thing, and his was the face that was in the locket around her neck. She had stolen a picture and cut out his face.

Italy approached her, smiling. “Hello! Are you the—“

Sampaguita stood and pushed Italy, face morphing into a face of beautiful rage. She tossed her long hair, glaring at Italy. “Don’t talk to me, you _slut_.”

Italy’s frowned, tilting his head. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” Sampaguta screamed, pointing one beautiful painted fingernail at him. “I know that you’re trying to steal _my_ man! Don’t TRY AND ACT SWEET!”

Italy’s face grew panicked. “Um, um, I’ve never seen you before! I thought that maybe you were the—“

Sampaguita slapped him. The noise her beautiful porcelain flesh made when it met Italy’s cheek echoed through the meeting room. Italy held his cheek, face torn between anger and utter, heart-breaking confusing.

“I don’t even know who you are!” He exclaimed, backing away. “And that corset seems a little tight, are you sure you—“

“Don’t know who _I_ am?” Sampaguita laughed, hands in her slip yet curvy hips. “I am the great and mighty nation of Sampaguita! I specialize in manufacturing corsets and makeup. I have two wolf companions, named Snow Blizzard and Scorching Sun, and I—“

“Veneziano,” another voice called, “Who are you—“

“Oh, Romano!” Sampaguita gasped, turning to face Italy’s older twin brother, “Italy is trying to act _nice_ after what happened!” She covered her mouth, voice trembling, almost crying, “Can you control him.”

Romano squinted at Sampaguita. “Who the fuck let you in here?” He turned to Italy and began to talk rapidly in Italian with him.

Sampgauita, who could speak all languages because her nation’s official languages were English, Italian, Nordic, African, and Asian, let out a shrill shriek.

“Don’t talk _shit_ about me!”

Italy held up his hands, “We weren’t—“

Sampaguita gave Italy another shove, and Romano stepped in between them, glaring.

“I declare war on Italy!” Sampaguita yelled, standing on top of the conference table. “We are so totally going to _nuke_ your ass!”

Romano scowled. “Like hell you will.”

Sampaguita smiled her angelic smile, her fist lowering. “Oh, no, I’m not going to war against _you_ , Romano! Only Italy.”

Romano squinted once again, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. “I… Who the _fuck_ let you _in_ here?”

Every eye was turned toward the three nations. Sampaguita grinned, the edges tinted with a malicious intent. She stomped her foot a couple of times, letting the few nations that had arrived already rest their eyes on her beautiful form.

“As some of you may know, Italy has been trying to steal my one true love away from me!” Sampaguita turned, marching toward the other end of the table. “I have declared war on him! He acts all sweet, but I know that it was _his_ fault that my love turned evil during World War Two!” She turned, pointing once again at Italy. “You need to be taught a lesson!”

Italy looked at his brother, muttering again in Italian.

“DON’T TALK SHIT ABOUT ME!” Sampaguita screamed, marching back over toward the Italy Brothers and hovering over them. “I WILL USE MY MAGIC POWERS OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS!”

The door of the conference room opened, and Sampaguita’s one true love walked in. He stopped, eyes flicking from Sampaguita to the Italy Brothers, who were the only two who hadn’t retreated a safe distance from the table.

“Germany!” Sampgauita called, adopting her cute voice. She bent over, allowing Germany to see a generous portion of her breasts. “I have missed you, Doitsu! Maybe we can find some of those porno mags and—“

“Veneziano,” Germany cut it, looking away from Sampaguita, “Who is this person?”

Italy scuttled over to Sampaguita’s future husband, talking quickly.

Sampaguita had enough. She launched herself off of the table, letting her angel wings burst forth from her back.

But, instead of rising like a glorious archangel into the sky, she crashed to the ground. She let out a moan, managing to sit up. That was odd, she should be in her Magical Girl form by now, why—

She turned back toward Italy. “You _cursed_ me!” She screamed again!

“What are you _talking_ about?!” Italy said, a hint of desperation in his tone.

“Germany, my love,” Sampaguita said, miserable, reaching out her hands, “Help me?”

Germany brushed off Italy, walking slowly over to Sampaguita. He crouched down, face stern, but she couldn’t tell is he was angry or not. He tried to smile.

“Are you lost?”

Sampaguita’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Did you wander away from your guide?”

Sampaguita felt her breath catch in her throat. “W-what? No, I’m the great nation of Sampaguita! I specialize in corsets and makeup and diamonds…”

Germany nodded. He took a breath, “There is no nation called Sampaguita. I’m not sure how you know about our nation status, but I don’t think you’re safe to be left alone.”

Sampaguita felt the tears spring to her eyes. “No, please, Germany…” She reached out to touch him, but he stood. “It’s Italy, isn’t it?” She started to sob. “He stole you away from me! Please!”

“I think someone should call the police. We need to get her somewhere that can take care of her.”

Germany, the love of Sampaguita’s life, turned and walked away. She felt quite miserable, sitting on the ground without her wolf companions and her angel wings. Romano gave her a dirty looks.

“Crazy people,” he muttered.

Sampaguita, also known as Sam Pagent, began to cry harder.


	3. The Dungeon

            Me: Ugh, I have to do homework.

            Germany: Chocolate, you vill fail your classes if you don’t work!

            Me: But I want to do this oneshot!

            Italy: PASTA~

            Germany: Vendernamnit, Italy!

            Me: lol you guys are so cute!

 

Italy had driven Germany crazy all day. First, he needed help getting dressed, then, he needed to be babied and carried around all day. By the time they returned home, Germany was ready to fly out of his skin.

“Ve~ Germany, you-a seem-a so tense!” Italy sang, naked as per the norm when he was at Germany’s house. “Maybe some-a pasta-a would-a help?”

Germany threw his newspaper across the table, and shot Italy a dark look. “No, Italy, it vould _not_ help! You are such a pain in mein ass!”

“Aw~ Douisu!” Italy danced over to him, sitting down in his lap and pouting. “I’m-a sorry you’re-a annoyed! Is there-a something-a I can do-a to help?”

Something inside Germany snapped. He grabbed Italy’s hands, and threw the nation over his shoulder. Italy gave a frightened yelp and Germany carried him through his house. He kicked his legs a couple of time, but Germany ignored him.

“Doutisu! Where-a are you-a taking me?”

“I am going to punish you!” Germany said, his deep voice booming.

They marched downstairs, into Germany’s “fun” room, as he liked to call it. Italy gave a yelp as Germany dropped him onto the cement floor. Whips, chains, and various other instruments adorned the walls. In the corner, there was a small bed. In the other corner, there was a stockade.

“You have annoyed me too much!” Germany shouted. He unbuttoned his pants, and his giant thirteen-inch penis flopped out. “Suck,” he commanded.

Tears sprung to Italy’s eyes, but he obeyed. He took the tip of the hoo-hoo in his mouth, tongue lapping around the very tip. Germany grunted. Italy used his hand to stroke the flaccid who-ha, tears streaming down his cheeks.

When Germany had enough, he hauled Italy over to the stockade. Italy tried to fight off Germany, but he forced Italy’s head and hands into the holes. Germany slammed the top down, locking Italy into place.

"You like this, don’t you?” Germany commented, perusing his assortment of whips. “You vant me to make you pay for your behavior.”

In the corner, Italy shakily replied, “Y-yes, Germany.”

Germany selected his favorite riding crop. “Zat’s _Mister_ Germany to you.”

“Y-y-yes, Mr. Germany…” Italy squeaked.

Germany leisurely strolled around to Italy’s backside. He ripped down Italy’s pants, smirking when he saw Italy’s ding-a-ling hard and dripping with pre-juice. He ran the riding crop along the white flesh, wanting to bite into the pert bum.

“Are you sorry?”

Italy quaked. “Y-yes!”

“I don’t believe you!” Germany shouted, smacking Italy’s bottom with the crop.

The nation let out a squeak, but following that he let out a groan. Germany raised an eyebrow, walking to Italy’s side. He lifted Italy’s ding-dong with the crop, raising an eyebrow.

“So close already. I vant to make you suffer.”

Italy moaned pitifully. Germany smacked his hee-haw, and the other, smaller man gasped, wiggling in his constraints.

“Oh, Mr. Germany!” Italy called. “P-please!”

Germany rolled his eyes. He positioned himself behind Italy. Had Italy not been bad earlier, Germany might have considered using lube. As it was, Italy didn’t even get as much as a layer of spit before Germany forced himself through/into his chocolate starfish.

“A-Ah!” Italy yelped again, bucking.

Germany smacked Italy’s back. “Quiet! Zis is vhat you get for being bad!”

“Oh Mr. Germany!” Italy yelled, his back arching. “You-a feel-a so good!”

It was quite the stuggl

I can’t even anymore jfc


	4. Bonus

Veneziano leaned up, catching Germany’s lips in his own. Germany was stiff for a moment, then relaxed, allowing his mouth to work back against Veneziano’s. The Italian grinned, allowing his tongue to quickly brush Germany’s in between kisses.

"Veneziano,” Germany said softly, “We’re in public.”

The other nation snatched away Germany’s lips again. Germany leaned down into the kiss, opening his mouth and allowing Veneziano more control.

Romano turned around and screamed. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, WE ARE IN PUBLIC.”


	5. Sampaguita: The Return Of

            Sampaguita excitedly did her hair, watching her reflection in the mirror. As she did her hair for the meeting, she watched her face grin. She was pretty ordinary, as far as nations went. Round face, large, eyes, one blue, one green, and pouty lips. She pulled her hair into an intricate braid, one her mother had taught her before she was killed by the nazis.

            Once she was done, she called her giant tiger companion to her with her magical whistle, clambering atop his shoulder. Then, with another whistle, they were off.

           

~~@~~

 

            Sampaguita dismounted her tiger, Charity, and walked inside the meeting. Every head snapped to see her walk in. She smiled at the lot of them, hoping that they weren’t going to exile her to the seat in the corner again. All of that trouble with the seat in the corner had to do with—

            “Well, if it isn’t Sampaguita,” a voice called.

            Sampaguita gritted her teeth, lifting her chin to watch the four nations approach her. It was Belarus, Ukraine, Hungary, and Belgium. Each of them were wearing short shorts and tank tops. They had, in order to be more cliquish and exclude Sampaguita even more, all dyed their hair a sickly yellow.

            Belarus was busying fixing her top—which barely covered anything, Sampaguita sniffed—but Belarus was eyeing her deadily, wielding a knife. Belgium was busy flirting with Spain and the Netherlands, while Hungary was beating back Prussia and Austria with a stick.

            “I thought we said you shouldn’t come back until you got a fashion sense,” Belarus said, he voice all high-and-mighty. “And, judging by your Converse, you haven’t.”

            Just then, the doors opened behind the five of them. Romano walked in, looking dashing as even in an Armani suit. He stopped dead in his track when he caught sight of Sampaguita. His face did an odd array of emotions, settling on disbelieving.

            “No, not you,” he breathed.

            Belgium popped her lips and waltzed over to Romano, wrapping around him like a monkey. Sampaguita felt her face flush with emotion—Belgium had probably sucked off Romano a hundred times by now. Sampaguita had no chance of getting with him.

            Belgium sneered, her stupid fucking nose upturned like that bitch Stacy, and grinded against Romano.

            “Oh, Romano,” Belgium cooed, her mouth next to his ear, “Why don’t we have some fun~?”

            Romano’s face was looking more mortified. He stared at Sampaguita. “What have you done?”

            Sampaguita broke, pushing forward to shove Belgium off of Romano. “Get off of him, you slut! He doesn’t even like you! You slept with everyone around your country—Romano likes girls with integirty! Don’t you Romano?” She turned to him, tears starting to sparkle in her eyes. “Romano?”

            Romano was massaging his temples. “Oh, my God.”  

            Belarus grinned, grabbing Sampaguita’s shoulder and turning her around. “You’re too late! Romano is in an orgy with Belgium and Seychelles! And Romano even made out with France at that last party—you’re too late! No one will ever love you!” And with that, Belarus stabbed Sampaguita in the shoulder.

            Sampgauita pulled away, her blood sparkling like rain as it fell to the floor. Behind her, she heard Romano curse, but she was too busy running away. Her footsteps pounded like thunderclaps as she ran from the meeting room.

            She sobbed, running into the girl’s bathroom and running into a stall. She pulled out her razor blades, deciding she couldn’t wait until she got home. She cut because no one loved her or understood her, and because this was the—

            Someone pounded on the stall door. Sampaguita jumped, screaming. It was probably the girls, they were here to attack her, to call her fat and throw chewed gum into her hair. But instead of high-pitched, shrill voices, there was only Romano’s deep baritone.

            “What the hell are you doing back here?”

            Sampaguita threw open the door, practically throwing herself at Romano. “They’re so mean!” She wailed, sobbing into his neck. “What did I ever do to them? I just want to export my designer candy and be happy with you, Romanooo!”

            “Holy fuck, get off of me!”

            Despite the anger in his voice, he did nothing to remove the sobbing nation from around his neck. In fact, he patted her on the back a couple of times, though his body language was stiff and uncomfortable to sob into.

            “Look,” Romano muttered, “You’re in-fucking-sane. Each time you come around here, people act… Just, weird. Please get the fuck off of me, for real.”

            Slowly, Sampaguita did as she was told, sniffling and looking pitifully up at Romano. She collapsed onto the floor, ignoring how the disgusting bathroom floor would mess up her beautiful sundress.

            Romano rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… Okay, look, I’m not sure what’s going on with you—“

            “I love you!” Sampaguita blurted.

            Romano closed his eyes. “Look, you love a different nation every fucking week. I’m not sure… Who keeps letting you _out_ , but you’re messing with everyone here.”

            Sampaguita nearly starting wailing again. “Is it because I’m not as thin as the other girls? It is, isn’t it! It’s because I hate myself, and all the other nations either want to sleep with me or they hate me because they—“ She sobbed, rubbing at her beautiful, obsidian eyes. “I just want everyone to love meee!”

            Romano rolled his eyes. “Look, you crazy fucking broad, you’re not a nation!”

            Sampaguita sniffled, mouth quivering. “You… Don’t recognize me anymore?”

            Romano threw his hands in the air. He took a step away, muttering to himself in Italian. Because Samaguita knows all languages, she knew it was Romano trying to give himself enough courage to tell her that he loves her just as much as she loves him.

            Romano faced Sampaguita again. “You are a mortal. Every time we have a meeting in America, you show up, and you’re insane. Lately…” Romano’s face drew into a frown, and he looked away. “Everyone else has been acting pretty fucking strange, too. Where are you from?”

            Sampaguita smiled. “Why, I’m from Sampaguita!”

            “You’re useless,” Romano muttered.

            Just then, Belarus burst into the room, wielding an impressive amount of knives.

 

            READ AND REVIEW PLS THANK YOU


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